


Midnight Clear

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Christmas fic, M/M, season six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was insane. Daniel who had died, ascended, whatever, was sitting in his cabin in rural Minnesota on Christmas Eve. He’d finally lost his mind. MacKenzie would do a jig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Clear

Silence, Jack decided, was a mixed blessing.

Although there was no one here to irritate or anger him – and everyone seemed to be doing both lately and it wasn’t their fault – the quiet of the landscape that surrounded the cabin allowed him to hear his own thoughts too well. He shucked on his jacket, shoved a woolen hat on his head and opened the front door. It was beautiful out here and he allowed himself to enjoy that, even if only for a few moments.

The snow had started falling hard during the drive north. It made the journey longer than it should have been but concentrating hard on the road ahead kept his mind fully occupied, which thankfully meant he didn’t have time to think about anything, or anyone, else. By the time he arrived, his eyes were gritty and tired from peering through the shifting curtain of white, but the scene was Christmas card perfect; feet of pristine snow, trees garlanded with brittle ice and a silver moon, which  hung big and low in the sky.

 _You’d love it here._

He talked to Daniel a lot, usually when he forgot that he wasn’t actually right there by his shoulder. He’d been gone for two months, which felt like a million years and yesterday.

 _I’m sorry I never brought you to the cabin. You wouldn’t have had to fish. You could have read books and written stuff and bitched about the cold, and I’d have said this isn’t cold, this is positively Mediterranean compared to some of the winters I endured as a kid, and you’d have rolled your eyes and hidden your grin by sucking on your pen because I’d risen to the bait again and I’d have shook my head and ..._

And that way lay madness.

Jack picked up an armful of logs from the stack by the door, his breath huffing in clouds of white against velvet black. He looked up and mentally mapped the night sky, as familiar to him as the path to his own front door; Auriga, Gemini, Orion to the east, Cepheus and Draco to the north.

 _You up there, Daniel? Don’t answer that. If you are, I’ll just be pissed that you prefer that to being here and I know exactly why you made that choice._

Jack sniffed. His nose was running. He’d been out here longer than he thought. Time passed and he didn’t really notice these days. There was no point in marking the Daniel-less minutes, hours, days and weeks. He took one moment at a time, each day, second by second. He could do that. He hefted the logs in his arms and turned to go inside.

A gust of wind blew the door shut behind him and he put a couple of logs on the fire, taking care not to collapse the wood burning through to ashes beneath, and wondered if he’d ever be warm again.

The bottle of single malt sitting on the small coffee table in front of his armchair was already three-quarters empty. That was okay. He had another and a couple more after that.  He took a big slug and traced the path it burned down his throat and into his stomach. Still not warm but a tad nearer blissful oblivion, so that was something.

He made a cheese sandwich and cut a thick slice of the fruit cake Fraiser had thrust at him on the day before they left for the holidays. Her eyes said, “Make sure you eat.” What she actually said was, “Cassie made this. It _probably_ won’t kill you.” He ate mechanically, not tasting much.  The Scotch slipped down nicely, though, the smoky burn seductive. He settled into the old, worn armchair and rested his feet on the table. The evening would pass in a haze of alcohol and tomorrow he’d wake up and go through it all again. As Christmas Eves went, this wasn’t the worst. Jack could remember that one with frightening clarity --  the missing presents, the dreadful silence when there should have been childish laughter and frenzied anticipation, the careful circumnavigation of everyone else’s feelings. This wasn’t that bad, and if he kept on saying that he might get to believe it.

Carter and Teal’c had done their best to raise his festive spirits.  Carter had extended an invitation to Christmas lunch with Janet and Cassie, but the thought of spending the day with others who also missed Daniel felt like piling pain on pain. They all missed him in their own ways. Sharing that just made it worse, at least it did for Jack. Carter and Teal’c talked about Daniel all the time and sometimes Jack wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up. He was gone. Suck it up. Move on.  Sometimes, just hearing his name was enough to open the crack in his heart just that little bit wider.

Teal’c had offered to go fishing with him. _Somewhere warm. Not Minnesota, O’Neill._  God, did Jack really seem that lonely? He appreciated the enormous sacrifice Teal’c was offering to make but turned him down, too, and Teal’c made arrangements with Bra’tac instead. Jonas? Well, the guy tried but every time Jack looked at him, he was aware he wasn’t looking at Daniel, and that just hurt too fucking much.

So, here he was, miles from anyone and anything with only the crackle of the log fire for company. It suited him just fine. There’d be more snow tonight, lots of it, but it wouldn’t stop him from spending the day hiking tomorrow.  He was Jack O’Neill, special ops, survival trained. He could get through anything.

Except this.

He closed his eyes, not feeling it when the empty glass slipped from his fingers onto the wooden floorboards. Through the amber drowse of malt and firelight, he recalled last Christmas Eve, when his team had gathered at his place and eaten themselves to a standstill and drunk more than had been wise. Carter had suggested Twister. Teal’c beat them all, sober as he was and more supple than any of them. Jack won the poker game, Carter charades, and Daniel fell asleep on the couch during _It’s a Wonderful Life,_ slurring his disapproval of seasonal sentimental manipulation before the snoring started. It was the best Christmas Eve Jack had enjoyed in years. The others left in the early hours, but Daniel slept on and, when he finally woke, Jack persuaded him to hang around for Christmas Day. They ate some more, drank a little, played chess, mah jong and literary hangman (pulp fiction _did_ count) and talked about nothing for hours. It was the best Christmas Day Jack had enjoyed since ...

“Fuck you,” Jack said, awake, asleep, or dreaming, he had no idea. “Fuck you for leaving.”

“And hello to you, too.”

Daniel’s voice. It was so much what Jack wanted to hear that he knew it couldn’t be real. Dreams didn’t come true, not even on Christmas Eve. But there he was, sitting on the small sofa opposite Jack, large as life and twice as beautiful. Daniel Jackson, wearing a cream sweater, beige slacks and an expression of mildly irritated amusement on his face.

“You’re not real,” Jack said, heart pounding, resisting the urge to pinch himself.

“I’m as real as you want me to be.”

This was insane. Daniel who had died, ascended, whatever, was sitting in his cabin in rural Minnesota on Christmas Eve. He’d finally lost his mind. MacKenzie would do a jig.

“Oh, stop it. Spouting crap like that, you’re obviously Oma in disguise. So what do you want, Oma? You here to ascend me? Because I can tell you straight, I sure as fuck haven’t earned that.”

Daniel looked sad. “It’s me,” he said, softly. “Ask me anything. I’ll prove it.”

Jack blinked. It looked like Daniel. Talked like Daniel. God, he wanted it to be Daniel. “What did you give me for Christmas last year?”

“Nothing. We agreed not to waste our money.”

“What did I get in the SGC Secret Santa?”

“Homer Simpson boxer shorts.”

He did.

“Wrong size, too,” Daniel added.

They were.

“You could still be Oma. All-powerful beings are all-knowing, too, surely.”

“No, they’re not ... and don’t call me Surely.”

Okay. It was Daniel. They’d laughed themselves stupid at Airplane one team night at Carter’s place after their first run-in with the Replicators.  Daniel had patiently explained the whole Surely thing to a perplexed Teal’c, who hadn’t really got the whole parody as humor thing.

Jack sat up straight in his chair, eyes fixed on Daniel. “Daniel? You corporeal over there?”

“Like I said, I’m as real ...”

“If I threw a punch would I actually hit anything?”

“You wanna hit me?” Daniel said, wounded and frowning.

“Actually, it might make me feel a whole lot better.”

Daniel folded his arms. “You blame me for leaving.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know ... are you coming back?”

“I’m here now.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“You want me to come back?”

“I never wanted you to leave.”

“You didn’t try very hard to make me stay.”

This was getting into uncomfortable territory.  “What kind of host am I? Can I get you a drink?”

Daniel nodded towards the near-empty bottle of Scotch. “I think you’ve had enough for the both of us.”

“I haven’t even started.”

Daniel leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You once told me that viewing the world from the bottom of a bottle didn’t make it look any better.”

Jack leaned forward, mirroring Daniel. “It doesn’t, but the blurred edges are kind of nice, and this time I don’t have a glass in one hand and a gun in the other.”

Daniel winced. “I’m sorry you feel like this.”

Jack sat back, raising his hands in a “what are you gonna do” gesture.  “Yeah, well.  The closest thing I have to a best friend embarks on a solo tour of the universe, or something, my team doesn’t feel like my team anymore, my knee’s crapped out and I’m down to last five bottles of Scotch.  But, hey, worse things happen at sea, right?”

Daniel frowned again. “I had no choice, Jack. It was either ascension or a slow, painful death that would have meant the end of everything. I can do more this way.”

“You said that back then. In the virtual Gateroom. I wasn’t sure I believed you. How’s it working out?”

Daniel eased back on the sofa. “Fine.”

“Still a probie?”

“You could put it that way.”

“Are we being watched now, I mean, assuming you’re here at all and I haven’t completely lost my mind?”

“You’re as sane as you ever were, Jack.”

“I severely doubt that. I am pretty drunk though.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I won’t remember this, will I?” He couldn’t keep the edge of anguish from his voice. He wanted to remember this. He needed to remember this. One crazy, wonderful conversation with Daniel to last him ... forever.

“No.” It was the softest Jack had ever heard him speak.

Jack swallowed hard, past the lump forming there, past the scratchy dryness that could only be cured by more alcohol. “So, what? You just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Jack felt old and tired. “No, Daniel. I’m not okay. I’m really not.” It felt good to say it. Out of necessity he’d exuded an “I’m okay, leave me the fuck alone, life goes on” attitude to everyone else. It felt good to say how he really felt to the only person he’d ever admit that to. He swiped a hand across his face as he felt the pressure of hot tears build. Fucking alcohol. He hadn’t been this far gone since ... since that time he really didn’t want to think about now. “And I’m not sure how having an imaginary conversation I won’t remember in the morning will make things any better.”

“Can’t you just let it make things better right now?”

“Christ.” Jack was suddenly, unaccountably angry. “Where has this unlikely desire to talk about stuff come from? You don’t talk, I don’t talk, it’s what we do. Did. It worked until ...”

Daniel folded his hands in his lap. “Until when?” he prompted, gently.

Jack checked out the cabin living room. There was a cobweb high in the corner, he’d have to deal with that. The photograph of his grandfather with a bass caught in the lake was crooked. His eyes rested on anything that wasn’t Daniel. “Until I fucked it up, fucked you and then fucked you over.” God, he needed a drink. “I should have talked to you,” he ground out, anger building again. “Instead, I backed off. No wonder you couldn’t wait to take the first plane of existence out of here.”

Daniel pursed his lips, making his whole face frowny and pouty. Jack loved that look. Wanted to tell him so, brush his lips against Daniel’s softly, tenderly. Make sure he got the message.

“The whole situation was fucked up, Jack. We went from a screwed-up mission and holding hands over the DHD to angry sex on my kitchen floor in the space of three hours.”

“You should have told me to fuck off.”

“I didn’t want you to fuck off.”

“It shouldn’t have gone down that way. I was pissed at you, me, the Eurondans, everything. If anything was going to happen between us, it shouldn’t have started in anger.”

“Jack.” Daniel could make his name mean a million different things ... pain in the ass, friend, home. This time, it sounded like sweetheart, baby, love. “What happened ... I wanted it.  I’d  wanted it for a very long time, for its own sake and for what it meant. Yes, it was harsh, brutal even, but I needed it every bit as much as you did and I can’t be sorry for that. I’m sorry it hurt you in the way it did and I’m sorry we couldn’t talk about it. And I don’t think I’ve ever said the word ‘sorry’ quite so many times in the same conversation. Go me.”

Jack’s head was aching. He really needed aspirin and water or maybe another dozen glasses of Scotch. “I can’t be okay with it. All right? I can’t.” Why couldn’t Daniel see that? “I was so pissed that you let me off the hook for what I did that I couldn’t even look at you sometimes.  Everything you did annoyed the hell out of me; Lotan and the Gadmeer thing? Wanted to slap you hard. Reese? Really meant it about shoving you through a wall. But deep down it was me I was angry with. I didn’t like myself very much for all that. I’m pretty sure you didn’t either.”

“I loved you, Jack. I still do.”

Jack met his gaze then. Daniel’s eyes were filled with unshed tears, just as they had been the last time he’d seen him.

“Why does it always have to be like this?” Jack said, voice rising. “Why does it have to hurt so fucking much?”

Daniel’s lips quirked into a small, half-formed smile. “Because there are times when we’re brutal to each other, just as there are times when we’re ... tender. It’s all okay, Jack. In the great cosmic scheme of things it doesn’t matter.”

Jack huffed out a deeply held breath. “Well, you’d know all about cosmic schemes. I’m more concerned with the day to day. Holding the team together, that kind of stuff.”

“How is everyone?”

“Teal’c’s being ... Teal’c, Carter’s making a new friend in Jonas and Jonas is ... there.”

Daniel shook his head. “Don’t be too hard on him. He came through for us. It’s early days. He’s a civilian, remember? Just like I was, and I didn’t know my head from my ass at the beginning. He’ll be a good addition to SG-1”.

Jack clenched his jaw. “He’s not you and I’m reminded of that every time he speaks or walks up the ramp beside me and, God help me, every time I see him in your office.”

“Give it time,” Daniel said.

“Time,” Jack said, slowly. “Got lots of that, stretching out endlessly before me. Lots and lots of Daniel-less time.”

“I’ll be around.”

“How will I know?”

“You will. You’ve just got to trust me on that.” Daniel looked up then, head tilted, as though listening. “I have to go.”

“So soon?”

“I really shouldn’t be here at all. I’ve got to ...” He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets.

Jack fought the urge to beg him to stay. He didn’t care if any of this was real or not. It was the most real he’d felt since Daniel walked through the Gate and out of his life. “I love you, Daniel.”

The look Daniel gave him was heartbreakingly gentle and soft. “I know.”

“This is one of those ... tender times, huh?” _Stay. Please stay. We’ve only just started to make things right._

“One of those.”

“I like it.” _Keep him talking. He can’t leave while we’re talking._

“Me too.” Daniel looked heavenwards again. “You gonna be okay?”

“You’ve made things better right now.”

Daniel smiled. It was bitter-sweet and beautiful and filled Jack’s heart with longing.

“Close your eyes,” Daniel said, quietly.

“For all I know, they’re already closed.”

“Jack.”

“Okay, okay, eyes closing.”

He felt a brush of air rush like gentle fingers through his hair, a soft, warm breeze caressed his cheek and the lightest, feathery tingle touched his lips, first top, then bottom, achingly tender. It was warm and comforting and felt so right. And then it was gone.

He smiled and raised his hand to his face, letting his fingers trail over his lips. He felt at peace for the first time in two months and let his mind wander where it would, flitting like a butterfly from precious memory to precious memory. He thought of his parents and festive tables groaning with his mom’s delicious cooking, of Charlie and trains sets, of Daniel and games played on paper.

Pulp fiction did _so_ count ...

>>>>> 

The air was dry and cold, the sky the most brilliant blue. It was a perfect Christmas Day.

Jack stood on the cabin porch and hefted his pack more comfortably on his back. The snow was deep and it would be challenging until he hit the forest trail.

He pulled on his shades, took a deep breath and took the first step.

He could do this.

 

ends


End file.
